


Moments

by potter_queen



Category: Gossip Girl (TV 2007)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potter_queen/pseuds/potter_queen
Summary: A few moments in Chuck and Blair's childhood that explore what their relationship may have been like before we meet them in S1.
Relationships: Chuck Bass/Blair Waldorf
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	Moments

**7**

Blair Waldorf was seven years old. Blair was one of the oldest girls in her class, her birthday being at the start of the year. She liked to remind the other children of this fact when any of them disagreed with her.

At seven, Blair already acutely felt the pressures of living up to her Waldorf name. She always made sure to look neat and tidy going to school. She tried hard with all her classwork, and made sure she stayed at the top of the class. She was Blair Cornelia Waldorf, after all. She had to be perfect.

Being perfect did  _ not _ involve messing around during arts and crafts and getting covered in glue and paint of feathers.

Blair had to remind herself of this fact over and over again, and resented it more so than anything else. She didn’t mind working hard, or eating healthily, or speaking like a grown up, in fact she  _ loved _ doing those things, loved feeling more sensible and grown up than all the other children. But sometimes, when Blair watched the other laughing and messing about, uncaring that their hair was streaked with paint and that there was glue drying on their uniform, as Blair earnestly mixed paint and carefully stayed within the lines, she felt a little left out.

It would be nice, she thought sometimes, to just give in to the urge to splash paint all over her carefully drawn picture, or to stick her fingers in the pot of glue to peel it off slowly once it dried. It would be fun to swear paint of Serena’s arm and watch her best friend squeal in delight before retaliating.

But that was not what Waldorfs did.

So Blair kept her eyes down during art, ignoring the antics of the other children and concentrating on perfecting her own picture of the Central Park pond, featuring herself and her father feeding a flock of ducks. The children had been told they could leave for recess whenever they finished, so everyone hurried to finish up before hurrying outside, until everything was quiet.

In the quiet, Blair was able to put the finishing touches to her painting; the loaf of bread in her Daddy’s hand and a tiny pink headband on her head. Finally satisfied, Blair stood up to put her painting in the drying rack and was startled to find she was not alone as she had suspected.

Chuck Bass was sat at the other end of the table, his chin in his hand and dabbing his paintbrush thoughtfully at his picture. Curious, Blair rounded the table and peered over Chuck’s shoulder.

“Chuck!” Blair said with great surprise. “That’s really good!”

If Blair hadn’t been so surprised she would have felt resentful that Chuck’s painting made her own look sloppy and juvenile. Chuck had painted a large, white plane with the words ‘Bass Industries’ painted on the side in careful letters. All around the plane were fluffy clouds and clear blue skies. Chuck had even painstakingly painted the turning turbines and the blur of a turning propellor. Out of two of the windows peered two smiling faces; a young boy and an older man. Blair stared at it for a long time, appreciating the detail that was never present in her classmate’s artwork.

“It’s not finished,” Chuck said dully. Blair watched, intrigued, as Chuck picked up another brush, then gasped in horror as he swiped red paint all over his beautiful painting.

“What are you doing?” Blair shrieked, grabbing at his arm. “You’re ruining it!”

“No,” Chuck replied bluntly, pulling out of Blair’s grasp roughly. “I’m  _ finishing  _ it. This is how I wanted it.”

“Why?” Blair asked in distress. “Now your parents can’t hang it up!”

Chuck laughed derisively, staring at his painting with obvious satisfaction. “It’s not worth hanging up. Let’s see yours, then, Waldorf. Are Mummy and Daddy going to hang it in the kitchen?”

Blair held her painting away from Chuck defensively. “Maybe. Or they’ll put it in my scrapbook.”

Chuck laughed again. He had not tried to look at Blair’s painting; instead, he had begun flicking blue paint of top of the streaks of red. “It must get boring,” he told her cruelly. “Being so  _ perfect _ all the time.”

Blair bristled but didn’t reply. He was right. It  _ did _ get boring. She watched in horrified fascination as Chuck flicked the paintbrush with his fingers, getting more paint on his fingers than the page.

“Want to help?” Chuck turned to look at her for the first time. Blair felt torn. It didn’t seem like something a Waldorf would do, but because it wasn’t her painting, maybe it didn’t matter. Cautiously, Blair set down her painting and sat down next to Chuck.

“What do I do?”

“Anything you want,” Chuck said with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”

**“** Anything?” Blair said suspiciously. When Chuck simply nods, Blair looks around the table of supplies hungrily. She spots what she wants; the pot of glue and a big tub of glitter.

On the corner of paper closest to her, Blair smears a glob of glue. A delighted laugh bubbles out of her as she shakes glitter all over the page. Chuck grins at her like she’s done something really impressive. 

“See, Waldorf? It’s fun.”

Blair laughs again. This time, she pulls the paintbrush out of Chuck’s hand and starts flicking more blue paint. She’s laughing excitedly until she glances down and notices flecks of blue al over her own painting.

“Oh no!” She gasps, grabbing her painting, which only serves to cover it in messy blue fingerprints. “It’s ruined! Chuck, this is your fault!”

Chuck glares at her, then suddenly reaches out and smears red paint all over her painting.

“Stop!” Blair shouts hysterically. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Chuck snaps back. “It’s already ruined. You said so yourself.”

Furious and at a loss for words, Blair reaches out and grabs the first paint pot her hand reaches. She watches with satisfaction as Chuck’s eyes widen as his jumper is covered in green paint. She’s still smirking when Chuck looks up again, staring at her in disbelief. His face flickers, then Blair is squealing and trying to get away, but it’s too late. Cold paint lands on her head and drips thickly down her neck. She turns to retaliate, and soon there’s an all-out scuffle; paint and glue flying everywhere.

By the time their teacher finds them, her eyes bulging in horror at the sight of all the mess, Blair’s uniform is slick with art supplies, her hands are covered in thick glue, and she is laughing so hard there are tears leaking out of her eyes, leaving tear tracks through the streaks of purple paint on her cheeks.

**11**

Blair and her friends like to spend recess sitting on the wall and discussing the rest of their classmates. This day is no different at all until a group of boys starts to edge closer to them. Serena preens but Blair grows nervous; mostly, the boys just ignore them.

When the boys are right up in front of them, there’s a sudden splash and Blair gasps in shock as cold water douses the front of her blouse. She looks down in horror as laughter rings out all around her. Her demure white blouse is sticking to her chest. To her horror, Blair sees that the material has become see through, exposing the outline of the training bra she had recently begun to wear. 

Tears threaten to spill as Blair clutches her chest self consciously; her cheeks turning red. She looks up, searching for the culprit, only to be met with the leering face of Chuck Bass. In his hand is an empty cup.

“See?” Chuck says smugly to the boy standing next to him. “I  _ told you _ she was wearing a bra.”

The boys continue to laugh, ogling Blair shamelessly. Bliar’s face heats up and hot tears spill out of the corners of her eyes. “I hate you, Chuck Bass!” she cries.

“Aw,” Chuck mocks. “You’re just upset that they’re so  _ small- _ ”

The end of Chuck’s sentence is cut off by a strangled cry as Blair steps forward, and, without moving her arms from where they’re shielding her exposed chest, kicks Chuck square between the legs.

Blair forgotten, the crowd turns to laugh at Chuck instead, where he has fallen to the ground, shouting in pain, with his hands clamped firmly where Blair kicked.

“B!” Serena cries, grasping at Blair’s arm. “You’ll get in trouble!”

“I don’t care,” Blair says determinedly. “He deserves it.”

A teacher appears beside them suddenly, shouting at everyone to move away. The students scatter, including Serena, who’s off in a flash. Blair goes to follow, but the teacher calls her back.

“Not so fast, Miss Waldorf! I saw you kick poor Charles!”

“But  _ Miss! _ ” Blair exclaims furiously. “Look what he did to me!”

The teacher looks at her, and cottons on quickly as to what happened. “Fine. Both of you come to the nurses room, she’ll have a spare shirt for you, Blair. And then I will be speaking to you both.”

Blair stalks off to the nurses room while the teacher helps a crying Chuck off the ground. Blair ignores the stares from the other children, too satisfied by the sound of Chuck moaning in pain to be bothered.

“Miss Waldorf,” the nurse greets her when she arrives at the neat little office that smells like disinfectant. “Whatever is the matter?”

“Chuck Bass threw water at me,” Blair glowers, trying to climb onto the nurses bench without moving her arms. “So I kicked him.”

“Oh, dear,” the nurse says sympathetically. “Let me get you some warm clothes. Wait there.”

The nurse disappears and Blair uses the opportunity to climb onto the seat properly. Alone now, she looks down at her chest. Chuck was right. The truth was that she didn’t need the training bra at all. She had only insisted her mother let her wear one after she had discovered that all the other girls in her class were wearing them. 

After a while, the door opens and Chuck Bass shuffles in, his face red and tear stained. He shoots Blair a filthy glare before joining her on the bench. He winces loudly as he climbs up, his face twisted in pain. 

“You better not have done lasting damage, Waldorf,” Chuck hisses at her with narrow eyes. He’s clutching between his legs again, and Blair finds herself staring at his hands, wondering what was beneath them that could hurt so badly.

“Yeah, well, and eye for an eye, Bass. Next time maybe you’ll think twice.”

“Yeah, next time I’ll step out of reach before you get me,” Chuck replies darkly. His eyes are red, and there is a bit of glistening snot under his nose. Blair wrinkles her nose and turns away, wrapping her arms further around herself and trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

“You cold?” Chuck asks pointlessly, glaring at her still.

“Yes,  _ Chuck, _ I’m cold. Being drenched in freezing water in November does that.” At that moment, the nurse returns, holding a lumpy pile of clothes that must have come from the lost and found. 

“Here we go,” the nurse says cheerfully, shaking out the pile. The clothes smell like they’ve been left in a cupboard for far too long, and Blair can see a great, dark stain on the top jumper in the pile.

“Here’s a nice shirt,” the nurse says, oblivious to Blair’s disgust. “It’s a little crinkled, but it should do the trick!” 

“I’m not wearing  _ that!” _ Blair cries. “There’s yellow under the arms! There must be something else!” 

“Blair, these clothes are warm and dry, that’s what’s important. If you leave that on you’ll catch a cold.”

“I don’t care!” Blair says stubbornly, but her resolve is weakened when a violent shiver wracks her body. Just as she’s reaching out to take the disgusting shirt, a jumper is thrust into her lap.

Blair looks up in surprise, to find Chuck staring away moodily, wearing only his school shirt. Her mouth open in a little ‘o’, Blair inspects the jumper. It’s perfectly clean, and smells faintly of detergent and the cologne Chuck has recently started to wear. It looks soft and warm, and Blair feels warmer just thinking about putting it on.

“There we go!” the nurse says cheerfully. “Well done, Chuck. What do you say, Blair?”

“Thanks,” Blair mutters, unsure. Her face feels red again, and she feels self conscious as she jumps down from the bench to go and change.

When Blair returns to the nurse’s room, she finds the headmistress and the teacher from recess standing in front of Chuck.

“This is just not good enough, Mr Bass. Whatever will we do with you! This term has been incident after incident, and now this! We will have to speak with your father personally soon-”

Blair catches a glimpse of Chuck’s face. His eyes are still red and he is glaring at the two women with such hatred and frustration that it shocks Blair. He’s still clutching where Blair had kicked him, and for the first time, Blair feels guilty. “Miss?” Blair hears herself saying.

“Don’t worry, Miss Waldorf,” the headmistress says kindly. “I don’t usually condone violence, but under the circumstances… you won’t be punished.”

“Thank you, headmistress. It’s just-”

“Yes, Blair?”

“I think… Chuck has been punished enough too.” The women frown, and Blair chances a glance at Chuck. He is staring at her, his brow furrowed. “After all… I did kick him quite hard.”

The women look between each other, and seem to give in easily. Blair senses that they don’t particularly want to deal with Bart Bass.

“Well, alright then, Blair. I would like you to apologize to each other to draw a line beneath this incident.”

Bright red, Blair mutters a reluctant apology. She hears the same from Chuck.

“Alright, you two. I don’t want to hear of an incident like this again. You’re both dismissed.”

Blair takes her chance and bolts away. She’s halfway up the corridor when a hand grabs her elbow. It’s Chuck, of course, standing a little funny but looking more or less back to normal.

“Why’d you do that?” 

Blair shrugs. Picks at her sleeve, which is hanging down to her knuckles. “Eye for an eye, remember? Now we’re even.”

Chuck nods, looking thoughtful. He releases her elbow and takes a step back, looking her up and down. “You’re alright, Waldorf-”

The corner of Blair’s lip tugs up. It’s the closest thing to a compliment she’s ever received from him. But then, of course, he goes and ruins it.

“-even if you  _ do _ have no tits.”

“Hey!” Blair exclaims, but he dodges away from her and throws her a devilish grin before he’s darting off down the corridor, back to class where he’ll be safe from Blair’s wrath.

After school, when Blair is undressing, she feels a little reluctant to take off the jumper. It’s warmer than the cardigan she usually wears, and she had felt small and dainty wearing something that was so large on her. As she folds the jumper carefully, ready to be placed in a paper bag with a thank you note she suspects Chuck will never read, she brings the jumper carefully to her face. It smells weird, but good in a way she can’t put her finger on. She hears Dorota outside her room, and hastily shoves the jumper into the bag, and never thinks of it again.

  
  


**13**

“Hey, Waldorf.”

Blair jumped and nearly swore. The books in her arms rocked precariously, but she managed to right them. She turned around to glare at her assailant. Chuck. Of course.

“ _ What  _ do you want, Bass?”

Chuck grinned sleazily and leaned up against the lockers, looking the picture of discourtesy. “Don’t get your frilly, white panties in a twist. I have a proposition for you.”

Blair’s face twisted in disgust. “Ugh, as if!”

Chuck’s face darkened and he stepped closer to her, his brown eyes full of dislike. Blair found herself taking a step back. “ _ Not _ from me. As if you’d be so lucky.”

Blair’s eyes flicked between Chuck’s, unsure which to settle on. Finally, she said, “if not from you, then from whom?”

“Nate.”

Blair’s interest piqued. She tilted her head. “Nathaniel Archibald?” They had gone to primary school together but had never really been friends. In the two years they had been attending Constance and St Judes, she had had no interaction with him. Nevertheless, she knew an awful lot about him. His family were infamous, and very well off. His father had a fantastic job, and his mother was a highly successful socialite.

“Yes,” Chuck replied with a bored drawl. “He -for some reason- finds you  _ enchanting _ . His word. He wants to ask you out.”

“He does?” Blair was very pleased. Her stomach filled with butterflies. Nathaniel Archibald thought she was  _ pretty _ . She had never been on a real date before. She had never even kissed a boy.

“Obviously,” Chuck sounded irritated. “Or I wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Okay,” Blair said with satisfaction. “When? Where would we go?”

Chuck rolled his eyes and pushed away from the lockers. “He’ll meet you at the Met steps after school. Tell Mummy you’ll be home late.”

With that he was gone, disappearing off into the throng of students and leaving Blair behind feeling giddy. She was going on a  _ date! _ She rushed off to find Serena.

  
  


**14**

It was the night of Nate’s fourteenth birthday party. Blair and Nate had been dating for a few months now, and Blair had never been happier. She loved Nate; loved holding his hand and walking around Central Park, loved eating lunch together and watching movies at one another’s apartments. She had  _ fun  _ with Nate, and it was unlike any kind of fun she had had before with Serena or any other girl. What she loved best was when Nate and Serena were around. They all got on and Blair loved feeling like the most special person in the group.

The only slight downside was Chuck Bass. Despite Blair’s repeated complaints and subtle hints that Nate drop him, Nate insisted on inviting Chuck whenever they went out with Serena. A lot of times, Chuck wouldn’t show in favour of hanging out with some older Constance girls or whatever it was he spent his time doing. At school, however, he was nearly almost around. He and Nate were practically attached at the hip, and it drove Blair mad. She hated sharing Nate. Hated that Nate listened to Chuck more than he listened to her. Hated that whenever the four of them hung out, she spent more time being annoyed at Chuck than actually enjoying herself.

She was especially annoyed at him tonight.

She was sitting in a guest bedroom at Nate’s house, listening to the party below and wringing herself in knots.

When she had asked Nate what he wanted for his birthday, he had told her that all he wanted was a kiss. She was sure that Chuck must have put him up to it. In their months of dating, Nate had never pressured her to do something like this. He seemed more than content in holding hands and cheek kisses! Of course, it had been that Basstard who put this idea in his head! Chuck was developing quite the reputation at St Judes for having already got to third base with multiple older Constance girls. Now, Nate must feel like he had to catch up.

It wasn’t that Blair didn’t  _ want _ to kiss Nate. She did! She loved him, and he was handsome and treated her like a princess. It was just that she was so nervous. She was terrified of doing something wrong. Of being bad, and making Nate not like her anymore.

She was so anxious that she did not hear the door open. It wasn’t until the bed dipped and she turned around to find Chuck lounging there with a glass of champagne in his hand that she realised someone had come in.

“What are you doing here, Chuck?” she snapped, turning away from him and trying to school her features into something more put together. 

“I had something stronger in my coat in Nate’s room,” he said with a shrug. “But then I spotted the ice princess sitting all alone in her tower. Why so glum? Party too boring for you?”

_ “No. _ ” Blair said shortly, taking a sip of her own champagne and trying not to feel so exposed. “It’s nothing you would understand, Chuck.”

“Try me,” Chuck said, his head tilted. He looked almost feline in his curiosity, with his eyes narrowed like that and his lips pursed in a dainty little heart.

“It’s about Nate’s birthday present,” Blair said reluctantly.

“Ah,” Chuck hummed wisely. “The coveted first kiss. I still don’t understand why that hasn’t happened yet.”

Blair glared at him and made to stand, prickled. He rolled his eyes and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down. She went easily. 

“It’s just kissing, Waldorf. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Maybe not to  _ you, _ ” Blair sniffed. She twirled her glass in her hand and watched the clear, golden liquid swirl, bubbles rising and popping at the surface. “I’m just nervous,” she admitted quietly.

“Why?” Chuck sounded genuinely confused. “He likes you. You like him. What’s the problem?”

“But what if I’m really bad at it?” Blair burst out, frustrated with him for not seeing the problem. She flushed when Chuck had the audacity to  _ laugh _ . “Screw you, Chuck!”

“Look,” he said, calming himself down. “You’re not going to be ‘really bad at it’. It’s natural. You don’t even have to think about it. It just happens.”

“But what if I do something wrong?” Blair pushed.

“You  _ won’t. _ Anyway, you could always practise first. With, say, Serena. I would pay handsomely for the viewing pleasure.”

“You’re  _ disgusting, _ Chuck,” Blair told him, but actually… he had a point. If only she had thought of this before! But alas, Serena wasn’t here. She was away for the weekend with her family, and Nate was expecting his kiss tonight. Slowly, she looked around.

“Chuck.”

“What? Want me to get Penelope instead? That wouldn’t be as hot, but beggars can’t be choosers-”

“You’ve kissed lots of girls,” Blair said bluntly. His eyes narrowed.

“Yeah. So?”

“So you know what’s good and what’s bad?  _ Right? _

“Where is this going, Waldorf?”

“It’s like you said!” Blair put her glass down and shifted so she was facing him directly. He was watching her warily. “I just need to practise first! And I don’t care if  _ you _ think I’m a bad kisser, and you can tell me what I do wrong!”

“This sounds like a bad idea.”

“Oh, come on! We can just pretend it didn’t happen. Please, Chuck? Do a good thing, for once.”

“Fine.” Chuck finally waved. He put his glass down beside Blair’s. 

“Wait-” Blair stopped him. “Promise you’ll never tell Nate.”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “I’m very good at keeping secrets.” He sounded bitter. Blair’s heart was beating hard in her chest. She grinned at Chuck, excited.

“Come on, then.” 

“Jesus, impatient-” Chuck cut himself off by pressing his lips against hers. His hand had found the small of her back, and after a second, his other hand found the back of her neck.

His lips felt dry and plump against hers. Just as she was getting used to the feeling, and preparing to pull away, the hand behind her neck pulled her closer, and Chuck’s lips parted.

She gasped in surprise, and suddenly something…  _ happened _ , in her body. Heat pooled in her stomach, and her head felt dizzyingly light. All she could focus on was Chuck’s very hot, very  _ wet _ mouth on hers.

He was moving his lips, pressing insistently against her. She copied his movements, moving with him, and suddenly she understood what he had meant when he told her she wouldn’t even have to think about it. It was like her body had overridden her mind. Her hands jumped up and found their places on either side of Chuck’s face, pulling him closer. 

Something soft and wet touched her tongue, and she realised it was Chuck’s  _ tongue. _ They were french kissing, something she always thought of as gross, but now it felt  _ amazing _ . She opened her mouth further, willingly letting their tongues meet and mingle. Chuck pulled her closer to him, slipping their torsos together. Blair’s body was on fire. Chuck felt solid against her, and his lips tasted like cigarette smoke and champagne.

After a while, she pulled away. “So?” she demanded. Chuck’s eyes were glazed over, and he frowned at her question.

“Huh?”

“How was I, idiot,” she said impatiently, rolling her eyes. He blinked a few times, then sat up straighter suddenly.

“You were fine,” he said flippantly. “Don’t do that with your hands, though. Your palms are sweaty.”

Blair huffed and rubbed her palms on the duvet. “But it was okay? I won’t mess up.”

“No, Waldorf. It was perfectly adequate. I’m sure you’ll blow Nathaniel away.”

She could hear his sarcasm, but she didn’t care at all. She felt wonderful. She jumped to her feet and smoothed out her dress, suddenly feeling determined to find Nate and kiss him. Now. She practically skipped to the doorway, only turning back at the last moment to thank Chuck in a sing-song voice, before she dashed off to rejoin the party, leaving Chuck alone.

**15**

Ironically enough, it was Chuck who first noticed her eating disorder. 

She had been shocked and strangely… disappointed that neither of her parents, her boyfriend or even Serena had noticed. It made her push, made her wonder when it would be bad enough that they would notice her flailing. She had thought, naively, even  _ hoped _ , in a twisted way, that what she was doing would make someone look at her. Make someone take her hand and ask if she was okay. She wondered if they even noticed how desperate she felt. How out of control. It made everything so much worse, to be so low and feel that nobody cared at all.

When, finally, someone noticed, Blair did not exactly receive the loving and tactful intervention she had daydreamed of. What she got instead was Chuck, lounging against the gates outside the school, smoking a cigarette and grabbing her roughly by the elbow as she rushed from the Met steps to the school bathroom.

“What are you- Chuck, get off me!” she had cried. He had held fast. Later, she would find bruises there.

“Off to the ladies again, are we Waldorf? Every day like clockwork,” he had hissed it right in her face, making her flinch away, both from the proximity and the smoke on his breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Blair had retorted shakily. Terrified.

“Oh, please,” Chuck spat. “Size zero doesn’t suit you, Blair. Your clothes are hanging off you. Frankly, you’ve never looked worse.”

His eyes raked over her face, and she  _ knew _ , that up this close, he could see the concealed bags under her eyes, the powdered flakey skin, the pallid complexion under her foundation. She squirmed, trying to get away from him, trying to hide her face, conceal her shame.

“Your breath smells like  _ vomit,  _ Blair. At least cover it up.” With that, he roughly shoved his cigarette into her mouth and pushed away from her, striding away from the school despite the fact that classes started soon. Blair let the cigarette fall from her lips. She was shaking like a leaf.

A few strides away, he turned back, staring her down with cold eyes. “You need help, Waldorf. If I don’t see you get it soon, I’m telling your mother personally.”

“Is that a threat?” Blair’s voice sounded much stronger than she felt. 

“Yes,” he said, not even bothering to deny it. “What you gonna do about it?” he sneered at her, mocking her.

“I’ll tell your father about your drinking,” Blair said desperately. “How many bottles of that stuff do you get through a month, Bass? And- and the prostitutes! And the drugs- Nate told me you’ve started doing stronger stuff, Chuck, and I’ll tell him-”

“Go ahead!” Chuck said with a laugh. “Bart doesn’t give a shit. Your parents do.”

With that, Chuck turned and left for real this time, striding down the street and disappearing, leaving Blair alone by the school gates, shivering so hard her teeth chattered and feeling more exposed than she ever had before in her life.

**16**

It had been a bad day. 

Blair was sitting on the bathroom tiles of her ensuite. Her mouth tasted disgusting, but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything about it. She had dismissed Dorota the moment she got home from school, knowing what she was about to do for the first time in a year and hating herself for it.

Now, here she was sat, alone. Serena had disappeared, her father had walked out, her mother was working ungodly hours, and Blair didn’t know who to call.

The only person she had left was Nate. She loved him. She loved him so much, but recently things just… hadn’t been the same. He was colder. More distant. He seemed nervous around her, like he didn’t know what to say. Was it something she had done? She had spent night after night desperately pondering that question. 

Her thumb hovered over his number. She made to press it several times, but each time, something stopped her. The thought of what she would say. What he would think, if he knew what she had just done. His disappointment. His disgust.

No. She couldn’t call him.

Slowly, she scrolled down. A, Archibald to B, Bass. The first B. Top of the pack, easy to find. She hesitated for a moment, then pressed the button.

He picked up on the third ring. “Hello, Waldorf,” she nearly smiled at the familiarity of his bored drawl. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Now, she felt foolish. She never called him. She didn’t know what to say. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t answer. The silence stretched on for a moment, until Chuck broke it again.

“Blair? Are you there?”

“I’m here.” Her voice sounded raspy. Chuck didn’t reply right away. When he did, he sounded uncertain.

“How may I be of service?”

“Distract me,” she said immediately. Her voice was pleading. 

“Surely Brandon Oakley’s little outburst this morning was distracting enough?” Chuck barely missed a beat. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an embarrassing little display. To profess one’s undying affection in front of dozens of your peers is questionable enough, but for the object of one’s affection to be  _ Lisa Gattington? _ Is Oakley mentally deranged? I would say she must be a great lay, but I’ve had sex with Lisa Gattington, and trust me when I say the experience was less than satisfactory…”

Blair leaned back, letting her head fall against the shower door behind her. She shut her eyes and focused on listening to Chuck’s voice through the phone, letting herself smile at the rude and judgemental comments he made about their schoolmates. For all his facade of not caring about anything that went on around him, Chuck paid close attention to the goings on of his classmates, and was surprisingly perceptive, picking up on conversational nuances that boys like Nate often overlooked.

After a while, Chuck began to run out of steam, having given Blair his commentary on everything interesting that had happened in the UES for the past few weeks. Blair considered, briefly, asking him to actually talk about  _ himself, _ but, outside of anecdotes about his conquests, she knew he wouldn’t say much at all. After all these years of knowing Chuck, she really didn’t know much about him at all.

“Blair?” Chuck said finally. “Am I just shouting into the void?”

“No,” Blair said with a weak smile. The inside of her mouth felt thick and fuzzy. She desperately needed a drink of water. “I’m still here.”

“Right,” Chuck replied. For the first time, the call felt strained. The silence between them stretched, and Blair wondered where Chuck was right now. She imagined him in his hotel suite, probably still in his uniform, sitting alone on the couch Nate slept on so often.

“I should go,” Blair said at last. She took a deep breath, then added; “thanks, Chuck. You know. For… talking.”

“Anytime,” Chuck replied drily. “Ciao, Waldorf.”

“Wait!” Blair stopped him, her grip on her phone tightening.

“...What?” 

“Just-” Blair cast around, trying to think of something to say. She didn’t quite want to be alone yet. “I want to know- what your favourite movie is.”

“My favourite movie?” Chuck asked incredulously as Blair silently hit her head against the shower door, cringing inwardly at her question.

“Yes,” she gritted out, trying not to sound as mortified as she felt. “Tell me.”

There was a silence that seemed to go on forever, during which Blair seriously considered just hanging up and claiming hysteria the next day at school.

“I guess… A Clockwork Orange. I find it very… insightful.” Chuck sounded loathe to even admit this small part of himself. Blair found herself grinning into her hands.

“I’ve never seen it.”

“You wouldn’t like it, princess. It would offend your delicate sensibilities. Now,” he went on drily, “am I dismissed?”

“Yes,” Blair replied with a sigh. “See you at school.”

Chuck didn’t bother saying goodbye. He hung up, and Blair listened to the tone for a moment before getting to her feet, heading off to brush her teeth and find the nearest video store.

**17**

Blair had never been more angry at anyone. 

Summering at the Hamptons and seeing Chuck every day had been harder than she expected. Watching her with his dark eyes, he set her body on fire. She hated him for the effect he had on her, hated him for disappointing her, hated him for the longing she felt in her bones.

Torturing him was bittersweet. It was satisfying to watch his face grow thunderous, exhilarating to see his jaw tense and his eyes flash as she touched Marcus’ arm and laughed at his banal jokes. She felt justified to hurt him, to equalise the game after he had abandoned her.

And yet it pained her so deeply to see him turn away. She knew his anger was a veneer, covering the deep hurt and pain she knew he felt. She knew his conflicted emotions ate at him. Part of her wanted to forgive him, to crawl into his arms and hold him close, to ease his pain in anyway she could. And yet. She couldn’t stop herself. She continued to push, to hurt.

She knew he would not take her punishments forever. She knew him well enough to know there would be a tipping point. His anger at her would soon outweigh his guilt, and then she would regret that she pushed too hard. She would regret letting them get even again. When she would no longer have the upper hand, the moral high ground.

The day he snapped was blisteringly hot. The summer was nearly over, and the return to school looming over them all.

Chuck spent his afternoons lounging by the pool. She had tried not to notice his routine, but her subconscious had tracked his every move. She knew where he was each evening. She knew which coffee roast he preferred at breakfast. The route he favoured on his constitutional. And she knew where to find him in the afternoons, laid out by the pool with a paperback Hemingway and a scotch on the rocks.

That morning she was feeling vindictive. She resented him for relaxing, for applying energy to a task other than pursuing her. She felt he should have grovelled more. Should have persisted till she relented. She hated him for not seeing through her contented visage to the loneliness that lay beneath. 

She wore the bikini she had purchased especially for this; a tiny Marc Jacobs two piece, white and lined with black. The white popped with the tan she had developed over the summer, the top accentuated her breasts and the bottoms hinted at what lay beneath. She knew what Chuck liked on her, and this he would love.

He was alone by the pool. He had had an umbrella brought down, and it draped over him elegantly, shading his skin and shielding him from such a plebian thing as sunburn. He must have walked from his rooms in nothing but the powder blue trunks he wore; there were no shoes by his lounger. 

She ignored him when she reached the pool. It infuriated him more than anything, when she acted as though he was beneath her notice. She felt a pernicious satisfaction as she dropped her kaftan, knowing his eyes were on her, aware that he could not have her. 

She made a show of removing her jewellery, her hat, her shoes. Finally, she scooped up her hair, twisting it into a neat chignon with practised movements and exposing the nape of her neck to him, which he loved so much.

She slipped daintily into the water and began to swim away from his end of the pool; cute little butterfly strokes; opening and closing her legs with satisfaction. The sun glittered on her skin and made her hair shine. She reached the end and turned around, a falsely innocent smile playing on her glossy lips. She flinched slightly in surprise when she saw him standing by the edge of the pool.

Chuck’s face was hidden by the glare of the sun. She squinted but could not make out his expression. She watched, frozen, as he strode the remaining paces between him and the edge of the pool before diving straight into the water.

He dove with perfect form, barely breaking the water. Blair’s body tensed. Her senses heightened, eyes watching the water, ears straining to hear over the sound of her blood rushing in her head. She watched him with mounting anticipation as he flew through the water; two feet below the surface and not once rising for air. 

Her heart thudded as she waiting for him to come to her. She felt like a helpless gazelle, pursued by the tiger. She knew her only option was to submit, to let him take her here, in the water, within viewing distance of the house. She would let him touch her the way she had yearned for all summer; hard and fast and adoringly. 

The thought was so erotic, so completely  _ relieving _ that she moaned aloud. His pussy throbbed with want and she knew she would be so wet that he would slide in without effort at all.

He was so close now. Blair gasped in expectation, waiting for the touch of his skin-

But it didn’t come.

Chuck surfaced beside her. He gasped as he filled his empty lungs with air. His eyes locked with hers, and she was shocked by the intensity of the contempt she saw.

She watched helplessly as he began to raise himself out of the water, still driven by the momentum of his swim across the pool. Blair’s eyes drank in every inch of his body as it was revealed to her. His hair, dark with the water and slicked back against his head. His jaw, freshly shaved and sharp as a blade, tensed in the fury that rolled off him. His shoulders, tanned and golden from the summer sun, muscles beneath rippling as he pulled himself upwards.

His biceps, bulging, forearms shining with wet, golden hair, back taut with sinewy muscles. Droplets of water cascaded down his broad chest, over the sweetly pink nipples Blair loved to taste so much, down the divets of his stomach muscled and through the dark trail of hair that led down-

Blair’s mouth went dry as Chuck’s hips emerged; the bone jutting through his skin. The pale blue fabric of his trunks clung to his body; indecent in its exposure. Blair could see him so clearly through the fabric, the length of him, the width. She could smell him- the heady scent of his manliness that drove her wild.

His thighs emerged, thick and solid. Blair glanced the little freckle by his knee that she felt so tender towards, and the feeling of protectiveness that hit her shocked her.

Then his calves and his feet, nails painted softest lilac, and then he was gone.

She gasped, suddenly bereft. She twisted in shock, but he was striding off without a backward glance.

“Chuck!” she called, her voice betraying her. How could he walk away now? When the tension in the air was so palpable? When she wanted him so badly her whole body was aching? 

He turned, and in his face she saw the pain of their loss that she felt. She wanted him, his mind, his body, the very spirit within him. But it wasn’t to be. At least, not right now. They both had too much healing to do.

He turned away from her again, and this time she let him walk away. She stood until he had disappeared into the house, then pulled herself woodenly out of the water, and made her way inside.


End file.
